Strum

The instrument’s old The wood chipped Strings worn Frayed at the ends I position my fingers On the strings Press hard Ouch! Ignore the pain Press harder I strum Strings vibrate Beautiful, mellow sound Courses through my fingers Down to my bones Fills me with sound So much sound I strum again And again Then I reposition my fingers And try again with a different chord Till my fingers are red and chapped But I don’t care Now I can play.

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